


A Good Traveler Has No Fixed Plans

by mightymads



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, High Heels, M/M, a long-haired Spock, pole dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightymads/pseuds/mightymads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do if you find your soulmate in a slave dancer from some dingy club? Take him on a merry ride across the galaxy, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Traveler Has No Fixed Plans

**Author's Note:**

> The snatch was huge, and so was the skirmish with Klingons. Despite being up for thirty-six hours, Jim is too hyped up to rest in his little cabin, now that they are docked, alive and loaded, at J'hordak, a starbase run mostly by Orions. Here you can lie low, lick wounds, and have some fun.

Bones was so tired patching up Scotty, d'Artagnan, and Whiz kid that he fell asleep in the examination room/sickbay. The Queen hates all sorts of dives passionately, having escaped one a couple of years ago.

That’s why Jim is drinking his Andorian ale alone. A few bumps and scratches aside, he’s unscathed. This shabby den is the right place to find someone for a quick and rough fuck—exactly what Jim needs to get rid of buzzing energy. Men, women, and everything in between of a dozen races are here, you just pick.

Jim has spotted a delectable Orion girl who is giving him a lascivious grin. The moment he’s about to beckon her, the music begins, distracting him. It’s as if something makes him turn his head towards the stage. Motley patrons start whistling and hooting as a tall man saunters to the pole in the center of the stage. He’s naked except for a loincloth, a slave collar stylized as an elaborate necklace, and black stiletto heels which make his toned legs look even longer. His body is lean and sinewy strength, movements graceful, feline-like, raven hair that reaches his waist swaying slightly with every step. The pointed ears adorned with heavy jewelry and slanted eyebrows tell of his Romulan ancestry... but wait, there’s something in the detached expression of his angular face, austerity in those dark eyes… how did a Vulcan end up here? Must be hell of a story.

The Vulcan swings his hips to the music, sliding his hand up his body in invitation, then hooks his leg around the pole and spins slowly, back arched; his chest, neck, and head form a smooth curve. His strong arms support him effortlessly as he lifts up his legs and opens them up in a perfect split, demonstrating how well-endowed he is, Jesus fuck, Jim’s mouth goes dry at the sight of that bulge.

“Juicy meat, eh?” a Bajoran guy smirks next to Jim. “No use though, no one can have the Devil, not even his own master, they say.”

For some reason Jim feels ill at ease for lusting after the Vulcan—strange, why’s that? The man is gorgeous, available or not. His graceful feet touch the ground, and he humps the pole, his taut butt rocking back and forth. It’s not even suggestive, it’s straightforward and unapologetic. Muscles ripple beneath his pale smooth skin as he climbs high up the pole. Legs crossed, the pole clasped tightly between them, he waves his arms and spins with his head down, strands of his hair swishing, lacquer heels glistening in the strobe light.

Mesmerized, Jim watches the man hold onto the pole with one hand, make a somersault and then soar, as if running in the air. For a second, their eyes lock. Maybe it’s Jim’s imagination, but there is a silent plea in the Vulcan’s eyes: _I don’t belong here_. Meanwhile, the audience whistles and shouts with approval.

The man slides down to the floor. On his knees and elbows, he writhes like a cat in heat under the shower of credit chips. Jim can’t quite explain what’s driving him when together with a credit chip he surreptitiously slips his best nano unlocker into the Vulcan’s outstretched hand.

The Vulcan’s expression doesn’t change. He gets up languidly, bows and disappears behind the curtains. One of the guards collects the credit chips from the stage.

“You gave him a generous tip,” the same Bajoran guy coos.

Not dignifying it with an answer, Jim makes his way to the exit, wading through the crowd. His intuition never fails him: it’s time to get out of here.

On the street, he has no time to reach for his communicator—three Andorians and two Humans attack him. Shit, so the gossip of the big gain spread too fast. Jim dodges the blows, knocking out one Human with a good punch to the jaw, and kicks an Andorian into the solar plexus, but the remaining Human draws a phaser. Son of a…  it’s the boss’s thugs: no one else is allowed to come with weapons. The two Andorians restrain Jim. The Human opens his mouth to speak when a hand squeezes the juncture between his neck and shoulder and he collapses, revealing the Vulcan dancer, now without the slave collar. Jim uses the distraction to throw off the Andorians. The Vulcan delivers a deadly blow with a stiletto heel to the gut of one and hits the other in the face with his elbow, his motions fluid, beautiful.

He barely straightens himself up as a knife pierces his chest. He lets out a surprised gasp; green blood streams from the wound. Shock overridden by adrenalin, Jim picks up the phaser from the ground and stuns that first Andorian asshole who apparently recovered from the kick and crept from behind.

“Run,” the Vulcan rasps, covering the wound with his hand. “Soon there will be more.”

“Fuck,” Jim hisses, hoists the Vulcan up and into the fireman’s carry and does run for his life. Footsteps and shouts are close by—more thugs from the club are chasing them.

Warm blood is soaking through Jim’s tunic, the pursuit is close, there’s too little time. A convenient turn straight ahead, Jim hides in a dark alleyway and takes out his communicator.

“This is the Captain, lock onto my signal, quick!”

Thank fuck, the familiar shimmering of the transporter, just as the thugs catch up. Best timing ever.

 

“Dammit Jim, not again!” is the first thing Jim hears after rematerializing.

“What is this, a hooker?” Uhura’s snort joins Bones’s snarl as she puts away the rifle.

“I was ambushed, he helped me,” Jim steps down from the transporter pad and hurries to the tiny sickbay, Bones in his wake.

“Let’s bounce,” Uhura dashes off into the direction of the bridge. The Queen as she is—no further explanation necessary.

 

Whiz kid plotted a course to some backwater Russian colony where his relatives live. Luckily, Scotty managed to work another miracle: the engines should last enough. With lots of cursing, Bones set to his own sorcery to help the injured Vulcan. He treated the wound and regenerated the tissues as much as he could. The Vulcan has been out cold for three hours, wrapped up in a blanket.

When he starts showing signs of life again, Bones suddenly smacks him across the pallid face.

“What are you doing, Bones?” Jim grabs Bones’s wrist.

“He’s coming out of trance and needs this to focus,” Bones retorts. “Don’t get in the way.”

Jim lets go, and the doc slaps the poor Vulcan again.

“Thank you, doctor, that will be sufficient,” the man murmurs, opening his eyes.

“Hey,” Jim smiles at him. “Thanks for helping out.”

“Likewise, thank you,” the Vulcan looks around as if still somewhat in disbelief that he was brought along.

“I don’t get it,” Bones mutters, glancing at Jim. “Why would this random dude risk his life for you? Because of your baby blues?”

“They would have killed me anyway by tomorrow,” the Vulcan sits up. “This was my last dance.”

“What did you do?” Jim asks.

“My master was eager to make a deal with an important customer,” the Vulcan replies quietly. “I ruined his chances by refusing to… _serve_ the said customer.”

“Now you’re with us if you wish to stay.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I’m Jim,” Jim offers his hand.

“Spock,” the man takes it after some hesitation.

“Welcome aboard, Spock.”


End file.
